


Mile’s End

by Ashjj



Category: Trainspotting (Movies), Trainspotting Series - Irvine Welsh
Genre: Drug Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Roommates, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 21:51:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17292092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashjj/pseuds/Ashjj
Summary: Mark just want Simon to tidy up his shit. That’s it.(Set after Trainspotting 2)





	Mile’s End

“Si, you’re gonna have to tidy some of this shit up.” Mark said, sidestepping past the leaning tower of movie cases. He pushed aside the empty beer cans on the couch, making a space for him to sit next to his mate. 

“I thought you said it was masculine!” Simon didn’t look up from the TV, it was another one of those weird, angsty music videos he liked for some reason Mark couldn’t understand. 

“I can barely move, Simon!” He scoffed. He knew Simon would be a difficult flatmate before he moved in but really? Was it that hard to throw shit away when you’d finished with it? The place had gotten a lot worse since Veronika had left, she was obviously the responsible one in the relationship. He didn’t usually mind mess but this was.. beyond mess. There was mold growing on the plates that had been left on the table for god knows how long. The floor was covered with everything from empty microwave food containers to porno mags. The place probably smelled terrible but if it did Mark’s nose had become accustomed to it long ago.

Oh well, it’s not like they got many visitors. Spud came around pretty regularly but they weren’t going to clean up just for him. Don’t get him wrong, he loved Spud but the man was oblivious. They could have had a corpse lying there for weeks before he noticed it, so he definitely wasn’t going to register just how messy their flat was. Maybe they could ask him to help them tidy, he did a pretty good job of the bar. 

Mark sighed and directed his gaze towards the TV. It was a video of three men dressed in black sitting in an empty white room. Weird.

“What’s this one about?” He didn’t really care, but Simon always seemed to enjoy telling him all the deeper, hidden meanings these things usually had. As expected, he started explaining the complexities behind the lyrics and Mark tuned out, nodding in what he hoped were the right moments. It was comforting listening to Simon, hearing the predictable intonations in his voice. The anticipated twists and turns in his speech, how he emphasised certain words and then sped up again when he wanted to get to a more interesting part.

“-so he’s saying there are countless things he could try to do to be happy, but is it worth the effort? It’s about there being no point in choosing life.” Simon explained, looking away from the TV every-so-often to make sure his friend was still listening. Mark thought that Simon had really missed a trick by not becoming a door to door salesman, everything he said always sounded convincing. If Mark didn’t know him he’d be hanging onto every word that came out of the bastard’s mouth. But sadly, he did know him, and it was a hard-learned fact that Simon David Williamson was full of shit. 

Mark looked on with a disapproving eye as Simon prepared another line of coke. He really should get him to slow down, he was going to have a heart attack before he turned 50 at this rate. Not to mention the money it was costing. Mark had had to pay Simon’s half of the rent for a month now because he kept blowing all his money on drugs. The last time he brought this up, Simon had shouted some half-formed argument and stormed out of the flat, slamming doors behind him. He didn’t think the whole ‘channel your addiction into running’ thing would work as well on him as it did on Spud. Simon didn’t want to get better because he didn’t think he had a problem. At least Spud knew he was fucked. What’s that thing they tell you at N/A? The first step to recovery is admitting that you’ve got a problem. 

“-You know? And why shouldn’t he kill himself? Sure, there are probably reasons to live but do any of them really mean anything?” He rubbed at his nose. Mark scoffed, the extent of Simon’s nihilism never ceased to amaze him. He worried about him sometimes, he knew he had demons just like everyone else. Wee baby Dawn. Wasted years. Addiction. Unsatisfaction. An itch he could never scratch. 

“Mark..? Mark?” Simon poked him. He must’ve zoned out again, Simon’s monologues always dragged on for too long. 

“Yeah, no, it’s good, very interesting.” He said, pushing himself up from the couch. Even if Simon wasn’t going to help, he really needed to get rid of these plates before they grew any more mold. His lips curled in disgust as he gathered up some of the various pieces of rubbish, stuffing them into one of the empty plastic bags that were lying around. He moved so he was standing in front of Simon, blocking his view so he might hopefully take the hint and help. Instead, he got a swift kick to the knee, causing him to stumble and yelp in pain. 

He fell forward and landed on the couch so he was effectively straddling his friend, his face mere centimetres from his own. Fuck. That finally got Simon’s attention. His face still wore it’s same displeased look but this time his eyes were curious, searching his own for clues on what happens next. Mark’s heart was beating unusually fast. So was Simon’s but he put that down to the cocaine he’d just snorted. Although, it didn’t usually make him feel like.. this. Whatever this was. It certainly wasn’t something he should be feeling for his friend. Mark found himself staring at Simon’s lips, they were slightly parted and he was close enough to feel his breath mist his skin. 

Fuck it. Mark fell forward, crashing their lips together. His hand found its way to the back of Simon’s head, pulling at the dyed blonde hairs. He smiled to himself as he felt hands grabbing his hips, pulling him closer. They both wanted this. He knew Simon would be a good kisser but he didn’t know just how good. He wondered if this was a good enough reason to choose life. The video in the background had finished and all that remained was the sound of their unsteady breaths. He felt Simon’s fingers tug at his zipper and quickly reached his own hand down to stop him.

“..I’d love to, but we have to tidy this place up first.” Simon made a noise of protest which was quickly hushed by a finger to his lips. 

“Clean.” Mark passed him the bag of rubbish, which he took begrudgingly. He pushed his friend (boyfriend?) off of his lap and started clearing things from the table. Mark smirked, maybe it was going to be easier living with him than he first thought.


End file.
